


Royal Conquest

by 1V1



Series: Kingsbane [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alien Sex, BDSM, Begging, Consensual Non-Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Lovers, Escapism, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Ragnarok-AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Royalty kink, Sex, Smut, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1V1/pseuds/1V1
Summary: Transported to Sakaar by pure cosmic accident, you manage to survive two long years in the Grandmaster's favor, keeping yourself clothed and fed in exchange for creating stories and showing off 'magic tricks' that are no more than clever sleight of hand. But your luck runs out when a man with actual real, God given magic arrives. He acts like he knows more than he lets on, and promises you a pathway home in exchange for your service to him. Malicious and cruel he will use you and you will use him- all to find a way home.But Loki is a man who lived this story before, and this time, he plans to get a better ending.(A sequel AU to Royal- can be read on it's own though it will reference events in the original work-On haitus until fall)





	1. Reality Shift: The First Instance

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to start with the original story you cam find it here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467675/chapters/30875115  
> That said, this can be read on it's own, though it will reference events of Royal on occasion.

Sakaar- land of trash and torment. That’s exactly what you would write on it’s tourism brochure. In a way, it was decent for being a literal planet that mostly consisted of various forms of refuse. For one thing, it stunk less than New York City on a hot muggy summer day by the bay. It also had a system to mitigate the trash that could decompose and that which would simple be broken, (a convoluted system, but a system none the less). Trash here though was very different than trash from earth.  
Earth’s trash never consisted of people, much less of alien odds and ends. Here, trash was a sort of all encompassing term for anything that came from one of the many gateways that surrounded the planet. Things forgotten, things cast out, things not wanted. It was not just the old, but the new. Left behinds, lost, abandoned, forsaken.  
Exiled.

You’d come by accident. A slip of chance that a walk down an old road would send you tumbling down a sheer ditch to avoid a car. A tumble that took you through a gateway, falling, crashing into the trash of Sakaar, with no idea what happened. Gateways, you later learned, were tricky things, they were sometimes random and spontaneous, other times fixed in location and destination. It just so happened that for you, it was one of the rare wild gateways that just cropped up here and there in the universe. By the time you landed in a trash heap, the gateway from earth had closed.  
Also a strange thing? Falling several hundred feet from an interstellar gateway didn’t kill you. Turned out that your atoms and particles and very being was not ‘whole’ until it made contact with a foreign surface. Aka: the trash.

The trash heap you laid on until rag wearing creatures (vaguely humanoid) came to you, asking in less that an articulate fashion, if you were food or not. You were more confused, and when they came at you with weapons, you ran. Running- perhaps the one thing you were good at. You ran down the trash hill, through the grotesque metal arches to a city of scrap and avant-garde structures. They chased you down through roads, sending you in a terrorized state past aliens- beings you might count as monsters. You lost them eventually, ending up in the middle of a busy alien city, where you couldn’t understand a word and nothing looked even vaguely familiar, let alone human.  
You don’t remember much after that. Just a dark corner, holding yourself as you sank to your knees, shaking and fighting to breathe. It was too much, too fast. You couldn’t think and everything around you, the sights, the smells, the sounds, the very taste of the air was too much. It was alien, it was frightening. It left you in shock.

But shock gave way to fear which gave way to plans to find the logic. Find the rationalization. To untwist the convoluted mess that was around you. A quick disguise- stolen cloth of vibrant gold and violet, stars stitched into the pattern. You hid your face, part of your alien clothes, (alien to them anyway). You tried to find something you could understand, something to grasp. That was when you saw him. Human, he had no strange markings, not extra limbs or odd colored skin. Makeup you knew from a mile away. He saw you and you saw him. Blue eyes twinkled in the light as he called for someone. You understood him though, you heard your language on his lips and that was enough. No hesitation, you dashed to him, hope blossoming in your chest as he looked at your with a smile, laughing as others came to his side.

You dressed oddly, but not badly. You wore purple well. Tears down your face, you asked him where you were, what was going on. He did not seem shocked by the nature of your questions, nor, by how you were acting. His hand on your shoulder, he smiled wide, and that was when you made your first mistake. You trusted him too quickly.  
“I am the Grandmaster my dear, and this is Sakaar.” His blue eyes held a look you only knew from addicts on the street, who would call out to beg for money, who threatened harm in the same hand as begging for help. Madness and malice, the Grandmaster took your name from your shaking self, and said you would join him, see his tower, his world. A guest he called you, a pretty new guest. But the words echoed the same way the words of men echoed at bars and dimly lit clubs.  
Madness and malice, he was dangerous and he wanted something from you. Something you feared he would take, just as he took you to his home and would suffer none of your pleas for further explanation. You were given a room, ‘party clothes’ and ‘invited’ to join the Grandmaster at his party. There was no way to refuse. Crazed or not, he had offered you shelter, clothes, and would likely offer food. He was crazed and alien and you had no choice. He was the only ally you had, the only thing keeping you from the dangers that surrounded you on a world you didn’t know.

At the party he asked question after question, and again and again, you answered him honestly. You name, your race, (something had excited him about the fact you said you were human ‘mortal’, and ‘terrian’), you past, your skills, your talents. Your talents were to his words, ‘nothing new or exciting’. That was when he made the display. How he killed one of his guests without batting an eye, laughing as the coal black char of their corpse fell to the floor. The Grandmaster was crazed and murderous, and he wanted something new and exciting.

You thought of only one thing. A slight of hand, you pulled a coin from the dirty floor, having it ‘vanish’ without vanishing. You begged for time to prepare something for him. To show your thanks for his hospitality. He smiled his insane smile and said that if you could think of nothing he had a few suggestions on how to thank him

You left the party, escorted back to the room allotted to you.  
Two days later you preformed a ‘slight of hand show’ for the Grandmaster. Tricks and ‘magic’ you had taught yourself as a child now saving your life. The Grandmaster had laughed, and gave you a new name. A new name for your new life on Sakaar. Royal, for the color of the royal violet shawl you stole the day you met him and ‘bewitched’ him.

It has been two years since you were named Royal. Not a soul on Sakaar uses the name you were once known as; it sounds strange now to your ears when you say it to yourself. To remind yourself of the home that you couldn’t find your way back too. Nothing left Sakaar. Days mixed, and often you wondered if it had really been two years. Two years to the date. You marked it in a little journal you kept, notes and memories of your life written down so you’d not forget. Two years and you looked at your name written on the page and felt wetness on your cheeks.  
You cried, as single glittering gold star fell from the heavens…

And landed with a smile atop the Grandmaster's tower.


	2. A King commands his first Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki arrives just at the same time as he returns.

The man was strange, you thought. He carried himself arrogantly despite only having been on Sakaar for a short while. The Grandmaster might like him now, but unless he did have some kind of hook? He’d fall flat on his face just like the rest of those who were ‘new’. Fresh meat was eaten, proverbially at least. (At least so long as certain scrappers didn’t get you). 

Loki, was what he called himself and you shuddered at the name. He couldn’t be the same man who attacked New York those years ago. You really hoped it wasn’t because if so, you were hellbent on avoiding him at all costs. Sadly, he was hellbent on two things. One, was getting on the grandmaster’s good side. The other?  
Buying you a drink.

“What was your name again?” His voice was sinful. Accented just enough to make a woman swoon but not deep or rich enough to be misunderstood. You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the bar, twirling a gold coin in your fingers. “Princess?” He sipped at his own drink, green eyes fixed on you, like he knew what you looked like under your clothes. Like he knew he could get you out of your clothes.  
“It’s Royal.” You answer, turning to face away from him. But then in a shimmer of gold he’s sitting in front of your- and behind you as well.  
“Royal-“ He purrs your name and snaps his fingers, the bartended getting you a drink.  
“A fitting name for such a woman.” You look at him in the eye, and smiling, push the glass just so it tips over, alcohol and aphrodisiacs spilling onto him, (and his erection).   
“Then treat me like it.” You say politely as you can, standing and quickly fleeing back to your rooms. 

You hope that he isn’t the Loki that attacked Earth, because if he is, you’ve probably just signed your death warrant.

The rest of your day is spent down at the market, gathering rumors and coin from simple parlor tricks and betting tables. Human you might be, but gambling is one things you know and bluffing your way with aliens has become your fastest route to a sustainable income. With so many aliens, it’s easy to trick them. Terrians after all, are rare. And rarer, are non-slave Terrians. On Sakaar, you’re the only Terrian, and that makes you special, and helps keep you in the Grandmaster’s circles. Had you been one of many, you’d doubt you’d have survived as long as you have.   
“So as I was saying,” you begin, laying the napkin over the cup, “with a snap, you can make things vanish. Takes a bit of practice though.” You do your parlor trick, slipping the ball down over the edge when everyone is distracted by your other hand. 

The trick shown, some less than smart tiny lizard folk cheer and clap, dumping various trinkets on the table for you. They’re like Kabolds really. Gems, gold- they have no value to them, but they know others like them. What they like is fighting and weapons.

You once traded them a swiss army knife for an emerald as big as your fist. Who knew the quality but holy shit it was probably the biggest gemstone you’d ever see. Let alone own.   
The day’s haul gathered you almost miss the new arrival in the doorway of the central tower, his arms folded, lips just slightly parted as he watches you considering perhaps.  
“Excuse me.” You politely try to step around him and he keeps blocking your path.  
“I’m afraid I’m in no forgiving mood _Midgardian_.” His tone is that sultry sound, but now, laced with threat. Midgardian- you’ve never been big on Norse mythos, but even you know what that means. Earth.  
“Pardon?” You fight to keep the tremble out of your voice as Loki takes a step forward and you take a step back. The trinkets and coins jingling in your pockets. The fact he’d pointedly used a Norse term, makes your alarm bells ring. It just might be the same self styled god that have tried to invade earth.  
“I said, you are not excused little princess.” His hand reaches out as grabs your arm, pulling you flush with his form, making you feel his erection against your hip. “You were quite the rude little thing this morning. Perhaps you need a lesson on where you belong.”  
“Under you?” You shoot back, fear driving your nerves. Green eyes widen then sparkle as he grins. Teeth are straight, perfect and white as he makes his intentions clear.  
“That sounds perfect actually.”

His kiss is hard and insistent, painful and unwanted. You hit him to stop it but it’s no use, he easily over powers you and deepens it. Pain as he bites a lip, his groan at that taste of your blood has you screaming into his mouth in fear as your struggles worsen. Nothing budges, nothing moves. When the kiss ends there is something in his eyes, dark, feral, knowing.  
“You’ll deny me, but in time, you will love me.” The words are bone chilling, yet he sounds so sure of himself, speaking with a strange displaced fondness. Your hands on his chest to push him away, his hold is true, and with one hand he keeps you pinned to him, the other reaching up to your face, brushing away the stray strand of hair. It’s an intimate gesture, and you shake in fear at it.

“Do you want to escape? Leave this disgusting waste of a planet behind you?” His voice is poison honey, sweet and intoxicating as your heart pounds in your ears.  
“In a few weeks, I’ll be leaving this world, returning to Asgard, but I find myself in need of a bit of assistance.” He pushes you back into a wall, arms, on either side of you, preventing escape. Your fear chokes you, yet you can hear him, sonorous in your very mind.   
“I won’t rape you, if that’s your fear.” He’s the god of lies. You can’t trust him.  
“But I will make your cry, I will hurt you, I will make your suffer- yet I can get you home, to where you belong. Or do you prefer it here? Dying, the grandmaster’s plaything, his future conquest?” You vaguely know you’re nodding understanding him, his words.  
“Help me, and I’ll save you. Help me, submit to me, and I’ll give you what you crave most.” He smiles, letting you go, your arms wrapping around yourself, eyes wide and afraid. He’s a monster. One second threatening, the next solicitation you for sex, then offering escape-  
“No one can escape Sakaar.” 

His laugh is rich and deep and you look away from him as he smiles.  
“I’ve done it before my Royal.” You blink, look at him, green eyes sparkling. He’s not lying. Somehow, of all things, you know he isn’t lying about that.  
“How can I trust you?”  
“You can’t.”  
“Why should I trust you?”  
“You shouldn’t.”   
Your body stills as you wonder, as you entertain if he’s being honest, if he can get you back to earth.  
“Will you get me home?”  
“I will.”  
“Will you betray me to the grandmaster?” He opens his mouth then pauses.   
“Honestly, I will get off this planet and if I must betray you temporarily to do so I would. However, leaving you- I don’t think I would if all goes according to plan.” He could have lied. But he didn’t.  
“Tell me Royal,” he purrs, “will you do anything to survive, sacrifice anything to escape, lose anything in order to live?” His eyes glow is malice, with want, with power.

You answer them, standing a bit taller, a bit stronger, swallowing your fear. He’s Loki, the man who called himself a god and invaded your home once upon a time. He’s a monster hiding behind the skin of a man.  
“Anything.”

His kiss is sudden, heated in it’s passion and in your shock he slips you his tongue, the technique making you melt even in your resistance and fear.   
“Tomorrow then my sweet princess-“ He lets your go and you feel something in your hands, “we begin our courtship, and our plan to escape this wretched place and the fate it would hold for us.”  
He vanishes in a glittering cloud of gold and in your hands are a bouquet of white roses, held together by a green ribbon.   
You wonder if you've made a deal with the devil, and that night dream of a sky full of stars.

 

In his rooms, decorated in gold and green, marble hard and cool and every inch reminiscent of his Asgardian suite, Loki grins. He twists the reality gem in his hands and thinks back to the determination in your face, the steel in your eyes and the fire in your soul. The time gem hangs under his tunic, stolen, borrowed to not undo what he has done- but to make good on a promise he was never able to grant.

The stars wait for you both and he dreams of your smile for the first time in a millennia.


	3. What a pawn may become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royal and Loki play a dangerous game, and dance to a tune they have both learned to survive.

There is a fear in you that comes from being watched. You’ve learned what it means to be watched not as a woman, like one would on earth, ever defensive of sexual assault or more dangerous fates. No, on Sakaar you’ve learned the reason to be aware to know who watches and to know why. On Sakaar, people are tools, prizes, decorations, things, objects. Sex is irrelevant when your life is a common commodity. So you adapted. You learned from watching others become prey, become victims to their own blind ignorance, their own arrogance to think themselves untouchable. You were a woman, raised on a world determined to have to complacent, a victim by nature of your sex and gender. You had practice.

Others did not.  
So why was it then with your fear of being watched you felt only apprehension with the green eyed trickster on your back. You felt a fear, but it was not one of death like it should have been. Loki looked at you like he wanted you, to own you, keep you, claim you, dominate you.   
He looked at you like the Grandmaster did, so you would do what had become your adapted defense.

You gave him the attention her wanted, and nothing more.

He sits across from you at the table, drink in hand, smiling and laughing with the others who make up the Grandmaster’s favored, every so often throwing a glance your way. This is a dance as old as the nature of of the primordial. Bestial and carnal, a wild chase that ends in death or sex. You smile and give him a coy glance, occasionally slipping a forced blush when your eye meet. 

His offer hangs between you, a strange offer and potential promise of hope, of freedom from chains that have kept you locked away from all you have ever known. When his drink is empty, men and women are quick to offer to get him something new, but you have played this game before. On earth it was born from tactical entanglement, a way of signaling intent and promise while also allowing an out- a debt so small to prevent a debt you would owe to become something to be owed. You slide your drink across the table to him, half empty. Green eyes scan your glass and then look to you, a smile sweet as sin tugging the corners of his mouth.

You have danced this dance before. You have adapted to dance Sakaar’s tune. You know alien and terrain are not so different.   
He drinks from your glass and licks his lips, complimenting your taste in alcohol.   
“I only go for the finest. I am worth nothing less after all.” His eyes alight with fire of a challenge, with a reminder if he would be worthy, if he would treat you like your name commanded, demanded.   
You are Royal, as is he. Like players on a chess board, you know he sees you the pawn, and if you will be his pawn, you will style yourself a queen. He is a trickster, and so you must be trickier. 

“Then perhaps, would you care to show me the city? The grandmaster has promised me a tour but, I value my time.” His voice is a caress, to all others who listen and watch, the promise of debauchery, of decadence. But you hear the snake, you see the apple of eden in his eyes. Knowledge comes at a price. This garden you have so carefully cultivated will cast you out if they know, if they too taste the forbidden fruit Loki has offered you.

Anything to get off Sakaar. Anything to be free. Anything to get home.

“The rumor is you’re a king.” You deflect the question, knowing he knows you would say yes. There is no answer you could give even if you wanted to.  
“I am.”  
“Wasn’t that roll for your brother?” The question is a strike against the snake. A thunderbolt to send him spiraling fom the tree to the earth. Legs and limbs cut, crawl on his belly as his fellow favored clamor to know more, to know sorrid details and the web of lies and stories he spins.

From the snake to a spider, he weaves his webs and ensnares them, green eyes flashing to you with the fire of promise. The fury and rage that makes your spine seize in fear and caution. Death is not beyond him, but you would be his tool. A pawn in hand, a queen under the mask you will wear for him. You swear to yourself, promise yourself you won’t break for him, to him, under him.

And he will have you under him. It is unavoidable, inevitable. There is a price to escape the Garden of Eden, the gilded cage crafted to keep you from the outside world and its harsh realities. Here, the Grandmaster is God. Loki is the serpent, offering a way out, a knowing, a freedom that no Adam may provide you. You are made from mankind- a human woman hardened by a life mired in sexism and learned survival. Stolen rib bone, a foil to perfection but in truth you are creation and chaos in a single form. Untamable, unfettered.

You look at Loki, steeling your will and resolve. You are Royal, you will not break. Bend- you can bend. But you vow to not break.

Yet that night, you gasp as his hands ghost over your arms, the dark of night chased away by neon lights. He holds you close as you both sway to the deep drums of the Grandmaster’s music, his chaotic tune that all must dance to or they would be put to death. You spin in and out of Loki’s arms, maintaining the chase, the image of intrigue and coy want. You feel the eyes of the false god who calls Sakaar a paradise on you, and you push yourself into the embrace of a man called a God by your kind once upon a time long past, worshiped and loved as equally as he is feared.

Loki’s hands push and pull you, digging into your flesh in places that make you crack, that give him footholds to draw you from behind your mask. He moves in sync with you like he knows you, like you know him. And he does. His lips find every inch of skin that sets you aflame and softly you struggle to hold make his name.   
A thrust of his hard cock on your backside, his firm grip on your arms to prevent escape, you want it, crave it. Release that you denied yourself, unwilling to risk your body, your mind, your sanity for something so base as sex. Yet his thrust makes you gasp his name, a shuddering sigh as he lips your ear, his voice velveteen when it asks the question you both know must be asked.

“Shall we continue this elsewhere pet?” the title is demeaning, but you have committed to this. You are resolved in your choice. He knows how to leave, he is a trickster liar god king. He’s a thread of hope, or salvation. He is the apple of eden, the snake, he is the devil beyond the gates and the holy guard that stands watch over it.   
“One question.” You face him, eyes hungry with a need you have not felt the urge to risk satisfaction for since you arrived. You cup his face, trace the angles of his jaw, the brush of thick curled hair on the back of your hands. His skin is slick with warm sweat yet he is cool, so cold to the burning you feel on your own flesh. His lips are wet, licked, wanting to taste, to devour. Eyes blown black with lust, danger screaming in your pores to flee into the dark of night, to reject this path, to take another.  
“Will I want more?”  
His laugh is real. It’s weighted and deep, shaking up his chest and out his throat loud and commanding attention. You gasp as his hands pull you flush to him, his firm arousal snug against your soft mons, the bare scraps of cloth you once called clothing far too thin. You crave more- the feeling of skin on skin, the intimacy, however dangerous, the want of touch, a thing you have been starved for.  
“My sweet pet, my dearest Royal.” He kisses you, softly gently, the darkness never leaving his eyes. The lust ever burning, and danger never fading. Yet is makes your heart pound in your ears, it makes you wonder, a curious nature that is encoded into your DNA like all things. Humans crave knowledge, they crave the new, the unknown, the want and want and will do anything to see their wants met, filled.

“You will beg for more.” Cold magic, you are lost until you’re not. Soft bedding, cotton sheets and the scent of masculine musk surround you. Gilt and gold- his room is lush and opulent. It’s dramatic in it’s decadence and you gasp as you look around. His hands snake around you and you lean into the touch.  
Your fear crawls into your throat. Surrender is tactic of smart survivors. Battles are not worth winning at the cost of a war. Sacrifice is the cost of success. This is a price of freedom, of knowledge. This is your bite of sin.

“You shake in my arms. Trembling like a fawn. Your heartbeat is faster than a humming bird’s wings.” Loki kisses your neck, slowly working you free of the strings that hold up the immodest dress. Violet, your color, chosen for you. You loathe it.

His sheets are a deep emerald green. You admire the way the shimmer as if silk has been spun into the soft cotton cloth.   
“You are afraid of me.” He cups your breasts and you nod.  
“You want-“  
“Sex.” His voice is a cruel hiss, a dark promise. A dark threat.  
“You will get me home?” His sigh ghosts over your bare skin, cool, you see mist in the air.  
“I will take you where you belong. And it certainly isn’t here on Sakaar.”

You cannot be one who breaks. So you bend. You turn, kissing him, dipping your tongue into his mouth as tasking cold winters, feeling him, hard and insistent against your hip.   
“Under you.” You whisper.  
“Under me.” He kisses you again, hard, deep, so wanting, so desperate as if he might steal your very soul.  
“And one day perhaps, above me.” The dress is torn on the last strings, pulled from your body as you’re pushed into his bed with no amount of care or concern. 

Loki is your snake, your apple, your future filled with pain and suffering and agony.  
He is freedom.  
Like God created woman, never telling her of the nature of the garden, he had inadvertently created the first scion of chaos. Uncontrollable in their unknown. Their innate innocent want to do, causing their own downfall. Adam was the dutiful son, so easily broken for a lack of knowing that there could be an unknown.  
You kiss Loki, you bite the apple, tasting it’s sweetness, tasting your death.

His hands are cool, caressing you gently, alarming you in their tenderness, their disarming of your senses when you see the feral possessiveness in Loki’s eyes. He will claim you. The gates of this alien eden are closed. You must walk and never look back.   
His skin is cool to the touch, flush to the heat of your skin you gasp and moan as your nipples are suckled, pinched, tasted. The teeth make you keen in painful delight. He sooths them with his tongue, suckling softly like an apology. His hands knead your ass, spreading you open as he whispers obscene plans of debasement and violation. His finger teases you there, a taunt, you push against him, his laugh makes you shake in his hold.   
Lips on lips, you feel him rub your wetness up and down your slit, testing you, easing fingers into your slick heat, making you moan his name and arch into him and his touch. You cry his name as he sends you crashing into bliss without notice.

He is a God.   
You worship him with his name, holding him close, legs around his hips as he thrusts in and out of you, filling you to the brim, stretching you wide around him, taking him to the hilt and feeling him reach parts so long untouched.

You place yourself on his altar, and greedily he takes his fill.   
“Princess.” He gasps, rolling his hips deep, your walls fluttering around him as he sends you hurtling to your second release.  
“You are mine.” Deep- deep and firm he strokes the fire in your belly, at the base of your spine. He holds you tight, close, and demands you look at him as he conquers you. As he claims a part of you.  
“From this moment on, you belong to me.” You cling to him, back arching as his cock brushes over your g-spot. You lay under hip and the brink, the precipice of orgasm.   
“You’re my princess.” You look at him, the golden horns on his head, glittering, mocking. You feel a wight on your own crown and you gasp as you see yourself reflected in his eyes.

You are beautiful- flush with pleasure, lips parted in euphoria, eyes half closed as you gaze at him, through him. You skin glows with marks of passion, heat radiates from you with vitality. The crown of gold with two petite horns delicately marks you and makes you scream in orgasmic release, chased with fear and dread.

You are a vision he has made. A pawn he has crafted. Loki is the black king, commanding pawns to fall in his name, by his will.  
Loki’s cry is loud and you feel him hilt himself, sinking deep, his seed coating you down, filing you up, gushing out of you in pornographic obscenity as he fucks your through his own release. Loki is the trickster- god, king, snake. The garden is gone, you lie in the wasteland now. You are his pawn and you see his plan as sure as you feel the crown on your head and see the vision he sent you.

You are the pawn he will make into his unstoppable queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise a more sexy sex scene will be soon. Soon being well... Morning after ;D


	4. Such a Good Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royal discovers her power and her weakness, unwittingly well before she knows how to both wield it, and submit to it.

Waking up you know immediately you had made a calculated mistake. The throb of a headache is loud and angry as you wake, telling you just what had gone on. Alcohol you could moderate. You knew your hard limits and knew what you drank last night shouldn’t have sent you to this bad of a hangover. The cool body next to you makes a low groan, arm draping over your side and pulling you flush to his hard, muscled form.  
You gasp at his hold, the insistent cock in the cleft of your ass, teasing you with promise.  
You had unwittingly been drugged. Slow acting, it had wormed its way into you, under your skin on the dance floor, lowered your walls and control. Not by his design, but likely, by your own foolishness at lingering at the party and focusing just a bit too much on him and not on others. You had accepted the trickster’s bargain nonetheless. You had given a part of yourself to the man who was slowly thrusting his hips against your backside.

“Morning princess.” His voice is thick with sleep, but low with want. Your heart leaps into your throat as he grinds himself against you, hand snaking lower until it brushes over the softness of your mons, teasing you with the fact he could easily slip his fingers further down. Down, where he’d find you growing wet from your body’s betrayal.  
“Loki-“ His hand cups you, fingers pushing into the soft flesh just a hair too hard.  
“King.” His voice is deep with command now, and you tense under his now controlling touch. His fingers dip lower, gliding over the folds of your sex, teasing the first sighs of wetness- not arousal, not entirely. Just a body’s natural moisture, a body’s natural response to stimuli.  
“I am your king and you’ll do well to remember it pet.” His teeth ghost over where your neck and shoulder meet, and you gasp as he threatens to bite down, a pressure making you squirm involuntarily, hips pushing against fingers.  
Finger that glide into your slit, teasing your hole still tender from the previous night. A hard reminder that you had surrendered to him, slept with him after two years of refusing any other man. The implications are known to you- the grandmaster never forced his hand, always making you on edge, respecting your insistence that you felt no desire. Yet sleeping with Loki removed that excuse. The Grandmaster would expect you to be around now, to-

“My king-“ The title earns a hum of pleasure from the man currently playing with your sex, working at your clit gently, coaxing it to feel the first buds of pleasure even after the fucking he gave you just hours ago. “-do you, that is, would you mind sharing me with others?” The question has him freeze his motions and you can practically feel the heat and fury in his gaze and his free hand comes to gather your hair in his fist, pulling back to your entire body curves backwards.  
“You’re mine.” Is Loki’s hiss, two fingers entering you roughly with no warning. The shock makes you cry out, tinges of pain lancing through you as they begin pumping inside your pussy.  
“If you think I’ll let anyone else fill this succulent little quim you’re sorely mistaken.” His thumb finds your clit and practically attacks it, rubbing to and fro, making your sounds a mix between plaintive whimpers and helpless mewls.

“The- ah- Grandmaster will-“ His fist pulls on your hair, pain hitting you the same time his fingers find your g-spot, rubbing on it. The sound you make is utterly debauched, and your cunt squeezes on his digits.  
“He will never have you.” Loki’s voice rumbles in his chest and his fingers move faster, his lips at your ear. “The only cock you’ll suck, taste, lick, touch, feel, fuck, and milk will be mine. This tight, juicy cunt is mine you understand?” His fingers stroke faster over your g-spot, his thumb rubbing your clit past pain into pleasure.  
“Ah- yes!” His breath is getting heavier and you feel a wetness on your backside.  
“Yes what?” His voice booms behind you as he fucks you with his hand, pulling your hair.  
“YES MASTER!” Your orgasm is denied to you, his fingers pulled free as your scream at the sudden loss. It doesn’t last long, his slick hand grabbing your thigh and lifting a leg, entering you from behind.

The angle is different, new, but his technique is perfect. His cock slides in with no resistance, stretching you over his girth as his length vanishes into your welcoming body. Hard heat fills you and hits a spot you’ve never felt before and it sends stars into your vision.  
Your orgasm returns with a scream of his name.  
“That’s right! You’re mine!” His hips rock into your body, making you shake as your release sends you spiraling between bliss and pain from his continued assault on your pliant body.  
“Your master!” His bite is hard and it sends you over the cusp of oblivion once again, screaming wordless as he slams into you, hilting himself as his seed floods your channel, cock twitching as your body accepts him.  
“And you Royal-“ He pants, kissing his mark, soothing the red hot pain with his tongue. “You’re my most beloved pet.” 

Your entire body is shaking as he gives a few more thrusts, slowly gliding out once satisfied. Your own body is wreck, pussy throbbing from the abuse, a sore tenderness building. The kind that only came after being fucked hard, after being so utterly owned. Your pulsing cunt makes your squirm, feeling the warm cum move inside you. You recall vaguely his insistence on filling you, marking you, looking at your pussy, pink and white from the drugged but passionate sex. The hazy memory makes you moan and like a curse, Loki takes this as a sign you’re not entirely satisfied.

“Oh?” He rolls over you licking his lips as he looks you over like you’re a fine cut of meat. In a way, you are. You’re on display, hair tussled from sex and sleep, lips parted as you softly pant to catch you breath. Eyes glossy with the last remnants of sleepiness, his bites fresh and old scattered on your skin. Breasts bouncing just ever so slightly with movement and-  
Loki’s gaze dips down to the apex of your thigh, lewdly grinning when he sees the slick mess you and he have created.  
“Look at you princess, so wrecked, so ruined-“ He purrs crawling up your body until his cock rests up in the valley between your breasts. You know damn well what he wants in this position. You blush, never having done this before, yet you can’t deny the idea of being forced isn’t appealing, plus, if pleasing Loki means he’ll relent and perhaps lessen whatever cruelty he intends, it’s worth giving in.

Pushing your tits together, the sound Loki makes is a mix between satisfaction and want, a low groan of pleased desire, he looks down at your offering of what is basically a tit fuck.  
“My filthy little princess.” He looms over you, dips his hips to push his cock between the soft mounds of flesh. “My dirty pet.”  
You see his eyes dark with lust and you lick your lips, gathering the courage to continue on this path.  
“Yes master.” You feel his cock twitch at the title and Loki’s sharp breath tells you that it was the perfect thing to say to the egotist. “Your slutty pet.”  
His eyes close as he leans further over you, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. You know that soon, his cock will need more lubrication than the remnants of you own fem cum and his- so you do the sensible thing. You lick the head of his cock as it reached your chin.

The second your lips and tongue meet him, the salty taste rushes over your tastebuds, neither unpleasant or enjoyable, it’s musky, salty, bitter, yet oddly satisfying in it’s affirmation. You’ve done this. You’ve made a god so weak as to tremble above you, make a man so powerful nothing more than and moaning beast desperate to rut into you. You have a moment of pride- you’ve got Loki, the would be conqueror on his knees, wanting something from you. The power trip is in itself a rush and you lap and suckle on his cockhead with growing enthusiasm. 

“God-“ You wonder who he calls out to, a god himself. “Good girl.” The praise is sudden, his words airy with pleasure and lacking their normal dark commanding tone.  
“Such a good girl, using her mouth.” Your eyes move up to catch his lazy black green, breathing heavily as he takes his pleasure from you.  
“Such a perfect princess, a lovely pet, pleasing her master. So good to me-“ His praise is new and it feels- odd. Out of place almost, but you find his comments pleasing, your sore cunt throbbing with a strange renewed desire.

“Oh- that’s right pet, suck just a little bit more.” You do, you hollow your cheeks and suck him, tongue ticking the thick veins under the bulbous head.  
“Right there- Such an obedient woman, so good- you’re doing so well my darling.” His voice is thick, you can feel the throb of him on your tongue. You moan in your own twisted delight as Loki thrusts a bit faster, the slick sound of him fucking your tits filling the room.  
“Good girl, my perfect princess, lovely pet-“ You let go off his cock for a moment, the title making his eyes shoot open at the same time he orgasms, coating your face and chest with his seed.  
“My King.”

Loki’s groanis a loud echo in the room and he falls to the side of you, a blissful smile on his face his eyes closed. He looks almost- happy. But his smile goes from blissful to feral quickly, his head turning to cast a wicked gaze your way.  
“Does my pet like serving me?” You blush. You enjoyed the power rush of the tit fuck, the knowledge you could have bitten him, made him work for release that way but rather you had had a measure of control and-  
“Does my naughty princess enjoy it when I pay her compliments?” Your blush deepens. You tell yourself it’s just his voice, the compliments are just- better in his sinful lusty voice.  
“Oh, your cheeks betray you darling. You like it when I pay you mind.” His fingers reach out, rubbing his spend into your skin.  
“Say it.” You bite your lip and look away. There isn’t anything to say-  
“Say you like it when I compliment you.” His hands move as he lays next to you, rubbing cum into you like it’s bod oil, as if he’ll make you like an animal.  
“No one pays you mind here do they, no one rewards you for a good job, no one gives you praise.” His lips find your ear, nibbling.  
“Say what you want, and I’ll make it feel good.” He pinches a nipple and you gasp, writhing in shame and horrid twisted desire for this.  
“I-“  
“Say it.”  
“I- I like-“  
“Come on now, I know you can do it.”  
“I-“  
“Do it for me, my lovely one, my princess.”

His hands snake over you, and you feel warmth under your skin, in your bones, dully, you see gold glittering at the corners of your vision.  
“I like it when you praise me.”

Magic floods your body, a sudden rush of pleasure filling every pore as your brought to a sudden gushing orgasm, cunt spasming on nothing.  
“Such a good girl for me. So obedient. So perfect.” Loki’s voice ghosts through your mind as you feel weightless, tired and sleepy. You dully feel him, soothingly petting your hair as if you were a real pet.  
“You’ve done so well Royal, held together so nicely after your first night with me.”

You sigh, relaxing into the soiled sheets, into his soothing touch, eyes fluttering to stay open.  
“You are so perfect, my princess.”

You close your eyes, not seeing the dark grin of satisfaction ghosting over Loki’s face. Satisfaction is not in his nature, but for now, this will do just nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to kinky sex ya'll ;D


	5. Plans for the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royal realizes a fragment of Loki's plan

The smell of food rouses you from your slumber; eggs- or the closest Sakaarian equivalent to it, along with something spiced- cinnamon? You hum, slowly stretching and also, slowly realizing the events that led up to where you are now. Soft sheets, clean wrap around your form, and bleary-eyed you look at the room. Opulent, the white and gold of the marble are accented by the hardwood floors and the green drapes and various other décor. Loki’s signature colors you guess, and as you try to locate the source of the smell, and your hunger, you realize that while you somehow had gotten in fresh sheets, your clothes had vanished. Not that it mattered. The dress was doubtlessly ruined and as for a bra and panties- with the way Loki had acted, you doubted he’d even let you have any. 

The fact you’d given in to him burned. Worse, you gave into him a second time with hardly a protest, letting him use you to get his twisted power rush dominating you. Worst still- you had enjoyed it, even the bits where he’d utterly debased you and hurt you.   
Your pussy throbs as if a cruel reminder just how he’d left you- sore, tender, but in ways that lingered pleasantly. The man had made you orgasm from his words alone- that in itself was a first for you. Plus being told what to do, giving in and letting him have control- that wasn’t you, you told yourself. You had control, you were not his to own. Not his to use or manipulate.

Standing on shaky legs you wrapped a sheet over you slowly peering outside the bedroom door to see his main living arraignment. Flickering memories of your drug induced stumble to his bed made you blush in the light of day. In fact- how long had you been out? The scent of food drawing your attention once again, you new lover sat at a small table, nude, a book in one hand, fork in the other.   
“Afternoon Royal. Sleep well?” He’s trying to disarm you with the casual air, the familiarity of his tone. Yet from the corner of you eyes you can see his member, swelling ever so slightly in your presence. Tugging the sheet closer to your body, you walk toward the small kitchenette, seeking anything to eat.  
“Good… Afternoon.” The scrape of a chair makes you mind fire the following title like a shield.   
“My king.” The scrape ends, Loki didn’t get up.

On a plate is a simple dish of eggs, sunny side up, bacon extra crispy, fresh fruit slices and a fruit juice with frozen berries to keep it chilled.  
It was you favorites for breakfast. You prayed that he just had a lucky guess.   
“Not too sore I hope? I was a bit more intense with you than I’ve been with other mortals in the past. As resilient and welcoming as your kind might be I-“ He hummed as you sat across from him, trying to keep the sheet up while also minding your manners. His words ending, you look up in time to see him wink- and the feeling of cotton on your skin is gone, replaced by cool air. The sudden change makes you yelp, the rush of cold making your nipple stiffen and you jump in your seat. Loki chuckles, eying you like the rake he is.  
“Modesty has no place when we’re alone together princess. I’ve see you before, just as you’ve seen me. Now, eat, I want to make sure you’re suitable for a day out in the city.”  
You eat slowly, mind reeling. You aren’t sure his plans, nor, what exactly he’d meant when he mentioned courtship that first time. Last night- that had been about sex. Dominating, fighting a game of cat and mouse that would end as he wanted it to. That was part of the agreement after all. Still, what did a magical, powerful, alien king, (was he really the king though?), want from a slight of hand human woman?

“I beg your pardon,” Loki’s eye lit up, a smile that was almost you’d say mischevious flashing over his face.  
“You are pardoned.”  
“… Well, good, because I thought you should know I might have given you HIV. But didn’t think it would be a problem, being you’re a god and all.” A lie. Loki looks shocked for a moment then-  
“You little liar.” The word is said with a strange sort of reverence, like he’s unlocked the holy grail. The look in his eyes is- madness is one way to describe it, but it’s also gentle. Like he wanted to hear you lie. It doesn’t make sense, but then, neither does his loud laughter that follows.  
“Oh darling, I take it back you aren’t pardoned at all. I think I’ll have to punish you, lock you up for that little lie.”  
You don’t let him roll you, you fight back.  
“Then maybe you shouldn’t pardon me without knowing what I have to say.”  
“Then how would I get the chance to punish you when you lie so poorly. But, I can forgive you, I will teach you how to lie better my princess. You’ll be learning from the best.” Wickness, Loki leans over the table reaching out to steal a small slice of citrus.

You blush as he licks the juice from his fingers. Punishment will no doubt be sexual and humiliating.  
“I- I need to know what you’re planning if I’m to be of use to you.” You finish the original line of inquiry, quickly eating the strips of bacon while Loki watches you in uncomfortable silence.

“Royal.” You name is a command, eyes flicking up to see a storm brewing in green swirls flecked with gold. Magic, you realize, as phantom hands snake up your back and rest on your shoulders to hold you down.  
“What do you know of Asgard?”  
You swallow. It’s a proverbial minefield probably.  
“Just- myth mostly. Thor-“ The phantom hands squeeze your shoulders hard, “-AH! He gave a few interviews but- It’s golden? Odin rules and-“ Loki’s expression is void, a mask of indifference and terror races through you. Without something to read, you don’t know how to act, what to say.  
“-You were locked up.” Loki leans back, the phantom hands not leaving your shoulders.  
“I was. Then I was freed to kill some elves and save the universe, which I did marvelously on my part. Afterwards, I allowed Odin to die in peace, the grieving widower he was-“  
“You’re mother died?” The words left and you felt the hands push down o your with a sudden force. The raw anger and sorrow all too human on Loki’s inhumanly crafted face.  
“I- I didn’t-“ He takes a deep breath, and the phantom hands vanish. “I’m sorry. For your loss I mean.” 

His eyes closed, you worry about the faux pass. But then, you swear you hear him whispering thanks for your sympathy. But the moment passes, and Loki looks at you all wicked cunning.  
“I took the throne. Attempted to give it to Thor, he rejected me, Asgard, disowned me, lost his hammer as a result as well as his name and mantle, and so now he’s the bare powerless Odinson. I’m the Allfather. That is the sort of it.” It- it’s only been two years. How could so much have happened.

“How long have you been here Royal?” His question makes you worry. Time is funny on Sakaar.  
“Two years. I came here in 2012. Erm, that’s-“  
“I know your Gregorian Calendar. I- well, might as well tell you, when I arrived here, the year on Midgard was 2017.” Your breath catches. Loki stands and you’re too busy trying to hold back the panic. Five years- you’ve barely ages two years but five years has past. How? Time is funny on Sakaar but how-  
“Hush.” Loki’s hands now are real on your skin. Cool.

“Come to bed sweet princess.” He coaxing your panicking form up, blindly guided back to his bedroom. “Let your king tend to you.” The soft sheet surround you as he kisses you, his hands running over your body.   
“Let me ease your heart, sooth your mind.” He parts your legs, lifting one to kiss your ankle, like worship. “Surrender princess.” He croons. “Give yourself to me.” You gasp and arch your back as he glides in, no resistance. What is going on, what is happening? Your mind is being pulled a dozen different ways and you’re lost. Lost and confused and scared yet-  
“Let me hold you, keep you safe. Hush,” His voice is a tether, a lifeline as your mind tried to focus on it, on him, slowly fucking you once more.  
“Hush, and let me save you.” His kiss is soft, tongue tasing to the citrus fruit, of him. Your hands wrap around him, pulling him close, needing an anchor as your mind spins further and further from your control.  
“I am your savior.” He rocks in and out, he reaches something in you, deep and primal and knowing.   
“I will give you everything you need my pet.”

Why had he shaken you so? Why tell you? What purpose did it serve?  
“I will give you anything you need.” Why?  
“You are mine.” Loki is an insane monster, a genius so why did he need you? Why try to break you like this?  
“And you will love me.” 

The words make you gasp his name.  
Loki planned to make you love him. He planned to break you and own you- not by pain or by sex. By seduction. He planned to become your salvation.

He planned to make you fall in love.


	6. Behave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki plays nice, while also playing dirty

In the shuddering afterglow of sex your mind tried to compartmentalize the fact that your… lover, for lack of a better term, wanted to make you fall in love with him. Likely, as a means of control and manipulation. The whole thought was absurd, yet it also was so insane it made sense. What better way to ensure someone’s loyalty than to make them love you and adore you? It was bone chilling in it’s implication. Loki was a liar, hell he was the God of Lies, (mostly mischief though), but the verity of his words was something to be feared for several reasons. He needed a pawn, you knew that for a fact, yet you’d been only given bits as to why. He’d purposely distracted you from your questions by the means of shock and followed it with sensual disarming sex. By all rights, he was making you relate fear with finding pleasure and comfort by his touch. 

He was manipulating you and you were playing right into his very devious, very sensual hands. Hands that currently, were running over your bare chest, lathering your breasts with foamy suds while the pair of you bathed.   
“You ah-“ His hands groped you, and the feeling of bare skin on skin under the cascading hot water was a new sensation for you. A good one at that. “You don’t need to help me wash.”  
“And risk you missing a spot?” His press of his lower half to your backside was cheating. You’d had sex several times now and the asshole kept using his magic, healing you, encouraging you to fall into bed with him. “I wouldn’t chance it.” It was hard to say no to him if just for the fact he’d broken your two year dry spell and well.

Manipulative crazy asshole or not, he did leave you very satisfied in bed, which was more than could be said about past lovers.   
Rubbing down your chest proved to just make you grouse over your body’s natural responses, fussing when he moved lower and took his time on your thighs. You ignored his little kisses and the way he moved you about, rubbing you down with foamy lather, cleaning you but purposely teasing you- reminding you that he was the one in power here, his hands roamed you, manipulated you to his whims.  
Well, two could play at that game.   
Grabbing a sponge, you quickly applied a liberal amount of soap on it before facing him, his smirk echoed in his eyes. He enjoyed watching you squirm and scoff at his touches and teasing. Thankfully, you were made of stronger stuff, having dealt with the likes of the Grandmaster and his brand of false intimacy before. Granted, not naked in a shower but, there was some similarities. Rubbing down Loki’s bare chest was somewhat enjoyable. He was an attractive man after all. An attractive, strong, well toned and portioned man with a very pleasing endowment befitting a ‘God’. 

An endowment you very pointedly did not wash but wash around. You did indulge a bit in grabbing handfuls of his ass, kneading it in your hands and admiring the firm muscle there.   
“Pet-“ He groaned above you as you washed his back, purposely facing him, soap covered breasts pressed to his body.  
“Hm?” You answered coyly. He’d fuck you for this maybe, but you would wrest back control from him. If he caved into this, it would prove a point- that Loki wanted you, and you could use that against him.  
“Aren’t you forgetting the most important part?” Green eyes glittered in unspoken command. Rub his cock down. Lather it, clean it, then probably suck it off for good measure.  
“Oh.” You smile up at him before you make your move.

A kiss, simple and chaste, you don’t linger before pulling away.  
“Hm, I don’t think there is a soap good enough to clean away your mouth.” You begin to rinse away the soap as Loki is left for a moment, stunned by the audacity of your last action. You expect retaliation in the form of sexual punishment. What you don’t expect is him to come behind you, humming as he also stands under the water to rinse.  
“I think-“ His voice louder than normal under the cascading hot water, “-I’m going to enjoy these next few weeks.”

Dressing in a gown of dark violet, you frown as Loki takes his time assisting you here and there. He summoned the dress, the jewelry selection, footwear. When you said you’d leave his rooms in your old outfit, he remarked he’d sent it to Hel, as to never be seen again. Ask him for a style of dress, a color, (oh how his face had twisted when you told him that you had to wear a shade of violet), jewelry you preferred- he’d summon it for you.   
And he had. Then in between doing his own clothes, he’d zipped up your dress, fastened the necklace- he made the pair of you seem more intimate than you were.

It was unnerving to say the least.

You were waiting for the shoe to drop. This wasn’t Loki. You knew it couldn’t be. His eyes spoke of a predator. You had been among predators for the last two years. Loki, as he looked at you, dressed for the day in violet and gold, looked at you the same way the Grandmaster did. Like he was the apex predator, and you were his chosen prey. It was unnerving, because while the Grandmaster saw you as prey, he’d not force you directly to do anything. Loki however? You didn’t know. He was unpredictable, but- he was your ticket home. 

“Royal! There you are! Loki too! Oh good, good, I almost sent Topaz out to look for you both, didn’t I Topaz?” The yellow garbed enforcer stands behind the Grandmaster, giving a look that could kill. You don’t mind, she’s not a threat to you. She hates most people, but so long as you stay out of her way, she usually leaves you alone.  
She holds up one of the control modules for the subjugations rings however and you feel a chill run down your spine. She just hates everybody.   
“No! Not like that- Oh anyway, that doesn’t matter you’re both here now!” He eyes you both, lingering overly long on you, and more noticeably, your neck which is decorated in fresh love bites from your apparent new lover and ‘master’.   
“A fun night I take it?”   
“More than fun.” Loki’s voice was made to charm you think and he steps forward, pausing just long enough to stroke a lock of your hair before moving away. A gesture of fondness, he wanted the grandmaster to think you two were close. The question was why though? Why make the Grandmaster think you two had somehow, gotten close, especially in under 1 day?   
“Royal and I found we share certain.. tastes. Fitting, given her name and my own position.”  
“And what position is that?” The Grandmaster bats his eyes at Loki and you feel sick thinking that the man is literally flirting with your lover while you stand right next to them both.  
“King. And above her.” He winks and you feel a strange sudden anger at the action. Loki is flirting back, and you feel… jealousy. The realization that you felt a smidgen of jealousy at Loki’s flattery and crude flirtation with grandmaster is alarming, and you fight back from having your face betray any emotion.

Well, if you were supposed to be his lover, and you felt this… odd feeling, might as well use it to your advantage.  
“Well, you did take to calling me your princess after all.” You take a step forward, closing the space between you and Loki, your hand reaching up to glide across his chest and stroke the side of his neck teasing his skin with the tips of your fingers.  
Both men focus on you and the action, while you coyly smile up at the God.  
“Oh, have you finally decided to be a bit more open with your favors Royal? I do think you owe me for my hospitality don’t you?” The Grandmaster attempts to make you afraid, but you’ve heard the threat before a dozen times.  
“I suppose I can knit you a nice scarf. I don’t think I’ve done that for you before!” You reply with a smile, cheeky. You, him, and Loki all know very well what he wants. Doesn’t mean you’d ever give it to him.  
“Would you come with it?”  
“Why would I? Two people certainly can’t wear the same scarf at once! But as for favors of a more intimate kind-“ You fingers play with a lock of Loki’s hair, twirling it in your fingers while his own hand reaches down, kneading flesh until it reaches your rear, making you swallow and flex the muscles there instinctively.   
“-That would be up to my king now wouldn’t it?” You give Loki a look through your eyelashes. The ball is in his court, and you trust him to navigate you safely through this horrible maze of sexual demand and conjecture.  
“Mmm, my princess, you grow more irresistible by the hour.”

“Okay, I get it, you’re infatuated with each other. Augh, fine. But-“ The Grandmaster backs off as Loki makes a small show of how his hand plays with your body and you lean into his frame. You’re a lover, the prize both men want. The power struggle between the three of you is palatable.   
“-I expect you both at the party tonight. You left the other day so abruptly.”

The tense, and you feel Loki do the same for a small beat.   
“I-“ You look away, mind running to find an excuse, a way to perhaps craft a defense.  
“We wanted to see just who would break first.” Loki answers and you blush in his hold, eyes on the flood as the implication sweeps over the room.  
“Oh-“ The Grandmaster titters, no doubt imagining it. “Did she scream?”  
Your blush comes with a sudden heat of embarrassment. You had screamed. Several times.  
“A good lover never kisses and tells.”   
“Well, you’ll just have to show us tonight.”

You wince, hand grabbing Loki’s hair involuntarily. The God doesn’t move, but you feel the animosity rolling off of him in waves.  
“Perhaps.”   
You swallow, finding your footing once more.  
“I am... hesitant to partake in some of the festivities Grandmaster.” You look at him, hoping to seem embarrassed and coy. It must work because the madness and lust in the grandmasters eyes is mired with hope. “I after all, have only just submitted to Master last ni-“ You word stops and you pale at what you just said.

The room is silent, and you want to shoot yourself. Your mind had reverted to what Loki demanded to be called in the heat of passion. Why had you-?  
“Oh pet-“ His tone is husky, lusting and you barely see the look on his face as Loki spins you to pin you to a nearby chair.  
“Naughty.” His mouth on yours you gasp, and his tongue invades. He tastes of fruit and some kind of spice. As you kiss, you feel him moving you both so he stands between your legs and grinds himself over your clothed sex. By the time the kiss ends, you’re certain your lips are puffy and sore. His hair is a mess, you hands having toughly tangled it, and behind him, you can see the Grandmaster eyeing you both like you’re prey. You thought you had control of this situation, that Loki had control over himself. What was his gameplan? Why this display? He didn’t plan to take you while that madman watched did he?

“Pardon. I-“ Loki groans as he pulls off of you, grunting as he makes a show of adjusting himself, trying poorly to hide his rather large erection. “Have a bit of a weakness when my pets address me properly.”  
“Oh I do not mind at all Loki.” The Grandmaster reaches down and strokes himself and you want to gag. But, Loki stands between you and the Grandmaster, and you realize that perhaps- this is a way to divert the Grandmaster’s intentions.  
“We’ll see you tonight. I’ll try not to wear her out before then.” Loki licks his lips and face you, eyes black as ink and expression one of pure dark promise.  
“Loki-“ You reach up and cup his face. You need to be the lover. The willing, devoted lover.  
“Be good.” 

His expression shifts just so, going a bit softer, and bit gentler. A voice whispers in your mind as he smiles in front of you, guiding you out of the Grandmaster’s parlor.  
‘Only for you princess.’

His voice echoes in your mind, a incubi’s caress as his hands roam you while he pushes you against the wall of the lift, kissing you senseless.   
‘I’ll be good, just for you.’


End file.
